


There's a D'artagnan under your bed

by Every_Sourwolfs_Dream



Category: The Musketeers, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Birthday, Crack, Gen, Hilarious, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, No Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, angry captain, athos knocks out d'artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Every_Sourwolfs_Dream/pseuds/Every_Sourwolfs_Dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None, however, cast an eye to he whom the celebrations were for, for all heads were glued in the direction of one, ravishingly dressed, young maiden.<br/>Shit.<br/>The three inseparables knew this was exactly what he requested against.<br/>Yet, suddenly, here he was, the butt of a wolf-whistle, as the woman straddled his lap, declaring him 'fair game' with all the provocation she could muster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a D'artagnan under your bed

**Author's Note:**

> Haahahhaha :D so, this came into my head at silly hours in the morning, and I just had to turn it into something!  
> I haven't come across many musketeer crack fics, so I thought I'd add to the collection ;)

Where the heck was it!?  
Bloody piece of parchment.  
D'artagnan was determined, resolutely determined, to prove Athos guilty.

Yesterday was D'artagnan's birthday. Being the most whole-hearted of all the King's musketeers, Athos deserved the title of criminal mastermind. The sorrowful man, D'artagnan was reassured by the less than tactful and rather drunk Aramis, had taken immense pleasure in ordering a flamboyant lady-of-the-night to the garrison.  
D'artagnan wasn't even sure now, she was most likely an actress paid considerably by Athos to play the part impeccably.

After a day on court duty at the palace, D'artagnan felt he more than deserved to rest on his birthday, especially after listening to a day's worth of the King's whining.  
He felt a gloved hand grab his shoulder with a hearty slap.  
"D'artagnan ma' lad!" The already tipsy Porthos crowed, "Are you in for a surprise tonight!"  
"N' I--" before D'artagnan could make a worthwhile reply, let alone escape the clutches of his scheming friends, he was pushed into a crowd of guffawing musketeers.  
None, however, cast an eye to he whom the celebrations were for, for all heads were glued in the direction of one, ravishingly dressed, young maiden.  
Shit.  
The three inseparables knew this was exactly what he requested against.  
Yet, suddenly, here he was, the butt of a wolf-whistle, as the woman straddled his lap, declaring him 'fair game' with all the provocation she could muster.

D'artagnan was successfully (only in the eyes of others) out of his doublet, and becoming bereft of his breeches, when the bellow of the Captain sounded from above the Garrison; causing every exhorting man to freeze like a musket pointed to his temple.  
"What the Devil is going on in MY Garrison!?" Treville boomed to his men. D'artagnan remained unable to move his limbs, still in shock from the women's persuits, as a path cleared for the fast approaching, omnipotent Treville.  
"...Captain?" D'artagnan's strained whisper at stark contrast with the woman's smokey allure. Treville swallowed his rage as the woman attempted to wind her body around his.   
"Remove this woman immediately." Treville indicated to Thierry and another man who seemly escaped at an opportune moment. She pulled her arms away indignantly as they made for the gate.  
The Captain rounded on the crowd.  
He paused.  
Silence collecting.  
The moment seemed calm, evasive.

"I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT HOW YOU SQUANDER YOUR COIN IN  YOUR OWN TIME. BUT YOU WILL NOT ABUSE THE RULES OF MY GARRISON!"  
Silence reigned as the Captain roared,  
"I EXPECT TO NOT HEAR ANOTHER WORD. FROM ANYONE! UNTIL DAWN.  
DISMISSED."  
All men scampered away until only D'artagnan was left, still somewhat stunned that half the regiment had nearly seen him in his small-clothes, to suffer the Captain's rath.  
The man's voice was searingly quiet, taut;  
"The soul reason, despite it serving as a somewhat pathetic excuse, you are not being suspended from duty is the fact that it is your birthday. It remains to be seen however, when - and if- you shall regain my respect."

The idea of hearing Athos' rich and lofty voice was sickening to D'artagnan on the night of his birthday.  
For such a stoic and receeded character, the man could be overwhelmingly cocky.  
*****

"Oww!" D'artagnan felt his toe crunch as he booted the chest. That was the last nook and cranny.  
Nothing.  
There must be something to prove his innocence to Treville, D'artagnan resigned as he perched upon a round-top chest.  
It was a good job Athos had left before breakfast, he thought. D'artagnan tried to cover up the overwhelming question of why. Why? WHY?

He almost dirtied his breeches at the knocking on Athos' door.  
"Athos?" Attomè querried through the solid oak frame, "Porthos is looking for you."  
Athos didn't reply (no surprises there).  
D'artagnan didn't move.   
Attomè knocked again.  
"Athos?"  
The latch began to lift.  
Shit.  
In three swift bounds D'artagnan was at the bed, in, and under tb the covers.  
He hoped to god Attomè didn't notice the lack of weaponry, or outwear, in the room for a resting man.  
"Atho--"  
Attomè paused, and sighed.  
"It's not my right to say Athos, but you need take it easy with the drinking. Even for a night here and there."  
D'artagnan felt guilty then, to both Athos and Attomè.

Silence.  
Should he roll over? No. He might show his lack of Athos-ness.  
Should he snore?  
D'artagnan was just about to make an inaudible sleep-sound, when a concerned Attomè crept his way to the bed. (Kind of creepy, but D'artagnan had bigger issues right now).  
What did he have have to loose?

"Bugger off you sneaky shit."  
Crap.  
That was mildly acceptable language for a hung-over good morning speech from Athos, but the problem lay elsewhere. D'artagnan may as well have done an impression of Queen Anne.  
He closed his eyes, inwardly cursing his lack of replication skills.  
Attomè stood wordlessly for what seemed millenia, when finally, he shrugged (not that D'artagnan could tell this from under the covers) and simply sighed, "Well. Your loss."  
Turning tail, replacing the latch on the door.  
D'artagnan released all the oxygen in the world from his depleting lungs, and followed suit. 

But was that the end?  
Of course not.

D'artagnan in an egotistical moment of madness decided he would have one last look for some solid evidence against a man he currently resented to call a friend.  
The young gascon was just replacing a book to its rightful shelf when he heard low voices from behind the door.  
"He just won't bloody get out of bed!" Attomè tried to reason with the Captain.

Oh dear.  
D'artagnan made for the ajar window just as the door swung open for a second time.  
He clung helplessly to the loose, begrudingly smooth brick outside Athos' and window, fingers beginning to lose an already minimalistic grip.

"Won't leave bed you say?" Treville questioned, an exasperated quality reaching D'artagnan's eardrums. A few more mumbled accounts were followed by the closing of the door.

"D'artagnan?!"  
The boy almost fell from the first floor wall, as a bemused Aramis squinted up at this newly discovered rock climber.  
"May I inquire as to what one is doing?" Aramis chuckled from the decking below. D'artagnan scrabbled for footing.   
"I regret to inform you there's an incoming patrol!" A suddenly concerned Aramis called up to his friend, cottoning on that the gascon wasn't pursuing a new hobby after all.  
D'artagnan hauled himself over the windowsill, collapsing on the floor just in time for the patrol to pass.  
He peered over the legde to thank Aramis, only to find the sharpshooter has disappeared with that same patrol.

He was about to finally, if a little relucantly, leave Athos' quarters when he heard a clunking from down the length of the corridor.  
Someone else was about to arrive.  
D'artagnan cursed this day and the splinters he recieved from the floor as he rolled under the bed.

D'artagnan heard the latch lift and fall once again, followed by the creaking of the door and a thudded close.  
He spied familiar boots from his rather crude hiding place.  
May as well give himself up now rather than get caught red handed.  
"Athos." He hissed. "Athos."  
The man didn't hear.  
D'artagnan evilled the still-booted ankles.

"Damn these breeches." the man grumbled to himself. D'artagnan watched the blue leather dropped to the floor.  
Shit.  
"Athos!" He attempted, but to no avail. D'artagnan's head sunk to the splintery floorboards, but snapped his neck up (a little too abusively) at the sound of a chamber pot sliding across the primitive flooring. D'artagnan cringed as his bladder reacted to the trickling of piss.  
Athos finished, still muttering complacently.

Fuck. Well. There's no one coming.  
D'artagnan, rather unceremoniously, abruptly rolled out from under the four-poster bed.  
"HOLY MARY! " Athos squalled, too shocked to enter defence mode. Granted, D'artagnan never thought he would see Athos flail.  
In his act of confusion (and slight loss of body control) Athos staggered towards D'artagnan, due to the unfortunate act of his breeches constricting his ankles.

At the sound of commotion, unbeknownst to the two ridiculous gentlemen in the room, Treville rushed from the staircase to the aid of his lieutenant-under-attack.  
Sword at the ready, Treville swung straight through the door.  
And stopped.  
It appeared that Athos still remained with his small-clothes awry, everything everywhere and out and proud.  
D'artagnan stayed, once again too stunned by his situation, in front of his mentor (albeit fully clothed), on all fours.

Athos frowned.

Awkward silence seeped from every corner of the room.  
D'Artagnan finally muttered from his position on the floor, "Um...uh...this isn't..." He cringed.  
Athos stuffed his dick back in his breeches, inciting their impromptu guest retrace his steps back out the door, leaving him to consider using his gauche to gouge out his eyes.

Athos turned to a grimicing D'artagnan, and knocked him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Mwhahahhahaha. *Hahahahha I'm so cruel*  
> :D oh the hilarity  
> (Sorry if there's any mistakes, it's like 3.30 in the morning.)  
> 


End file.
